Whiplash
Chapter 59: Whiplash
After what felt like months and months, the constant, pouring rain at long last, finally, mercifully, came to a drizzling end. Sans stood by the living room window with one hand in his pocket, the other dancing mindlessly over the crack that had grown into his skull. He wasn't paying much attention to it though, just staring out as the clouds slowly parted to reveal the shimmering morning sun, raindrops and dew glistening on the window brightly as a warm, ethereal glow basked him in a soothing light. Just looking up at the beautiful sight filled him with… determination.
Sans closed his eye sockets and allowed himself a long, slow, deep breath, gathering up all of the weariness and fear and exhaustion that had riddled him for so long. It felt like it was clenched up in his chest no matter how hard he tried to let go, like something was stuck in his throat and he couldn't swallow it back down. His thoughts were racing and his chest felt tight, and he stood there for what felt like hours until he felt a small, warm hand gently glide onto his arm. He slipped his hand out of his pocket without even looking down and gave Frisk's hand a slow squeeze, and they gradually but softly squeezed him back. He dared a glance down to spot a rare somewhat relieved smile perched on their lips, and the sight was even more warming than the morning sun. Just like that he felt all of the worry, the fear and regret, his constant anxiety and dread in his chest slowly drip away, like they were siphoning all of his pain away with that simple expression.
"… Hey kiddo," Sans could still hear Papyrus and Alphys in the kitchen talking amongst themselves. He really didn't know what to say, if there even was anything that he could say. But he wanted to try. For them, he would try. "I…" he choked up after a moment, glancing away. That look of absolute concern was too silent, too pure for him to look at for long. He felt the guilt clawing its way back up and gradually took another breath, feeling Frisk's grip on his hand tighten softly. "I'm sorry, babybones. I'm… I'm so, so sorry."
Frisk didn't forgive him, not aloud. But their position shifted as they stared out the window with him, sidling up to his side and wrapping their arm around his waist. He slid his arm over their shoulder, pulling them into a quiet hug. Maybe that was a form of forgiveness from them. God he wanted that to be true. He just stood in complete silence with them for a while, drinking in the sight. For once, he wasn't afraid of looking out the window and seeing a blanket of snow. It was refreshing, in a way. He could just clear his cloudy mind, albeit not by much. Sans desperately wanted a drink, but it was far too early for that.
Since when is that a concern?
Sans shook his head to stifle the thoughts and brushed Frisk's hair with his other hand absentmindedly before giving them a blank glance, tossing his head back towards the kitchen. Frisk shook their head slowly and instead drew him wordlessly over to the couch. They had some difficulty clambering up and Sans lifted them easily. Too easily, they were light, frail, and thin. It made his stomach twist in knots at the thought of their starved frame. Like they hadn't eaten properly for weeks. Guilt assaulted him as he sat beside them, drawing Frisk into a loose hug. He hadn't been around to take care of them. He needed to be. He was supposed to be making sure that they ate enough, that they were safe, and happy. And instead he had been taking an extended nap.
No need to feel guilty about that. Old bastard's fault. Not mine. Not my fault. Not my fault.
That did nothing to assuage the guilt though. Sans closed his eye sockets again and started to rifle for a biscuit in his jacket pocket before he remembered that Papyrus was home. He hated smoking around his brother, despised the disapproving look that Papyrus gave him. The taller skeleton didn't have to say a word to get his point across, and Sans groaned internally as he let the much needed biscuit slip back into his inner pocket. He cracked an eye socket when he felt Frisk poking him in the chest, an unsettlingly hungry look on their face.
"… What?" he opened both eye sockets to gaze back at them.
"Are you getting a biscuit…?" Frisk stared at him quizzically.
"No. No for me and no for you," he said without hesitation, ignoring the hurt look on their face.
"Please?" Frisk asked a little louder, making him flinch uncomfortably. "I just-"
"Later?" he pleaded quietly, desperately trying not to toss a nervous glance over his shoulder. Frisk opened and closed their mouth for a moment before swallowing with a frown, narrowing their brows a bit and nodding once. Sans let out a breath that he didn't know that he had been holding. He ever so slowly started to let his eye sockets drift closed, the weariness steadily washing back over him like a tide. If he could just get a little bit of rest, it would be fine. He could gather his thoughts, he
-couldn't move from the constriction of dozens of holed hands, skittering across and through his body like defiling, vicious, exploratory little spiders-
Sans jolted awake, vision darting back and forth as he searched vainly for the assailant. Instead of seeing that godawful eternal smirk, he saw only the warm sunlight glow dancing in through the living room window, Frisk peacefully clinging to his side in complete silence. He exhaled heavily, the grogginess hanging around his neck like a noose. Sans shook his head quietly, trying not to think about it. Just like what had happened with the weed. It was done, it was over. He came, he fought, it was done. He wasn't coming back.
… Right?
Sans immediately tried very hard not to think about that either, to no success. So stupid to think that he could ever get away for long. God above how he needed a drink. He could already begin to feel his bones starting to click and clack and shudder, but he forcibly shoved it down. He could wait. Just a bit longer, anyway. He didn't like drinking around Papyrus. Sans was legitimately surprised that he wasn't seeing Gaster around. But just because he didn't see him didn't mean he wasn't there, of course. He was always there. Always watching. Always waiting. He resisted the urge to touch the crack again, the filthy mark on his body a testament to the damage that had already been done. He hated it, he hated it so much. Maybe if he didn't think about it then it wouldn't be a problem.
It took several minutes of quiet before he realized that the noise in the kitchen had died down considerably, followed by an unholy shriek.
"Even GRILLBY ?" Sans flinched at the sound of his brother's voice. "Am I the only one that didn't know?!"
Sans let out another groan, an outward one this time, and he felt Frisk's grip on him tighten a bit. But he would face all of this. He had to, for Frisk. For Chara. For Papyrus. No more running away. He released a quiet sigh. He ran a finger bone over his head and touched yet again on the crack, grimacing at the sensation. Frisk's eyes wandered up to his hand with frown.
"… Does it hurt?" Frisk asked quietly.
"Nah," Sans lied, forcing his stare straight ahead, out the window. "Couldn't get through ta me. It's fine. Everything is fine."
Frisk didn't have to say anything, it was painfully blatant that he was lying. Another little stab of guilt hit him in the chest, but he pushed it away. He didn't need to involve them in that.
Papyrus was in the living room before long, closely followed by Alphys, who was still carrying her coffee cup. Sans briefly wondered why she bothered making it if nobody was going to drink it, because it was clear that she hadn't had any. It probably would have just made her constant jittering worse. Sans's became a bit more alert with the presence of his brother, sitting up sharply when Frisk clambered into his lap to make more room for Papyrus on the couch. The taller skeleton sank into the cushions tiredly, and Alphys sat on the far end, slowly turning her mug around and around while staring through her glasses into it.
"So. Uh," Sans started after a long, awkward stretch of silence. "Anybody wanna fill me in on what happened while I was takin' a beauty nap?"
"You'll have to sleep a lot more if beauty is your goal," Papyrus rolled his eye lights, but there was a small, weary grin on his face. Sans's soul leaped a bit hopefully. It seemed that the anger was already beginning to fade from his brother, giving him just a little more courage. His tone was joking, but beneath it he could still detect weariness. It seemed that everyone was tired lately. Sans wasn't entirely surprised.
"W-well…" Alphys murmured more to herself than anything. "The court date is in four days."
Sans blinked uncertainly, staring at her for a full beat.
"Oh shit I forgot all about that," he ran a hand nervously over his head.
"Swear jar. And before you ask, yes, you have to wear a suit," Papyrus tutted quietly. "We need to make a good impression for the humans! Things are already bad enough with-"
He cut himself off with a clack, his jaw clamping shut. Alphys looked at him with a strange stare that Sans did nothing to pretend he didn't see.
"Bad enough with what…?" he shifted uneasily. He didn't like it when his brother clammed up like that.
"T-Toriel g-got some more, um. 'Messages'," Alphys ticked her claws across her mug. "Via b-brick through the w-window." "Lovely," Sans deadpanned.
"F-fortunately, thanks to the s-security cameras I in-installed f-for her," Alphys perked up a bit as she readjusted her glasses. "W-we managed to g-get a glimpse of t-them, w-we're presenting i-it in court!"
"Not much help since they wore masks," Papyrus added with an uncharacteristic frown. Sans felt something in his chest twist at the sight. Seeing Papyrus so dejected, so tired, so… unhappy just felt downright wrong in every sense, it made him feel just a little sick. His brother was a shining beacon of constant hope no matter what, and as he finally took in the sight it really sank in just how much his innocent brother had slowly begun to change. His shoulders were stooped ever so slightly as he leaned forward onto his knees with his remaining arm, the lines beneath his eye sockets were blatant as ever, and his clothes hung loose and baggy on him. He wondered if his brother had been eating properly ever since the falling incident. He had always been so good about keeping himself up and healthy, but from the way that he looked Sans wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been eating properly either. It made him worry. But the lights in his eye sockets were the worst. They used to be so sharp, so bright, so full of magic and energy and faith and life.
Seeing it all torn away, leaving this drained, exhausted, more cynical skeleton in his place… it hurt. It ached in a way that Sans didn't even know that he could hurt. Sans vaguely wondered how he was going to tell Alphys about Asriel's soul, if she didn't know already. How he was going to tell Toriel and Asgore. He didn't like to think about it. If he could just put it off for as long as possible, maybe he could procrastinate long enough for another reset to come around so that he could do things right this time and god he felt like scum for thinking that way.
Sans let out a slow, heavy breath through his nostril bone as it finally sank in.
"… I think we need a vacation."
"Agreed," Papyrus nodded once, a bit more pep in his tone. "A vacation sounds wonderful. Maybe a trip to the beach would be good for everyone!"
"W-we c-could get e-everyone t-together!" Alphys was starting to get into it too. "Oh my god, 'Dyne got this super cute bik-" she shut her mouth with a small snap immediately, her cheeks reddening. For some reason Frisk was grinning widely at her.
"Do I gotta wear a suit to the beach, too?" Sans grinned weakly at his brother.
"Depending on the kind," Papyrus matched his smile softly.
"Just don't show up in a birthday suit," Frisk leaned their head back to stare up at him and winked. Sans's cheeks burned a bit but he just laughed it off and shook it off.
"I'll t-text e-everyone the good news that you're f-finally awake too…" Alphys ticked and tacked away at a cellphone that she pulled from her pocket. "W-we can all g-go to the beach to-together! I-I'm ffriends with a lot of p-people on Undernet, e-even with all of the, um. N-not so nice m-messages."
Sans just stared at her awkwardly.
"What'cha mean, Al?" Sans shifted a bit so that he was sitting upright. He even would have tried coffee at this point, dear god he needed a drink. "Somebody trollin' ya online? Man, and I thought I was the only one that got ta mess with the royal scientist."
"Um. Ex royal scientist."
Alphys and Papyrus shared a slow, sad look that Sans felt left out of, and he stared between them for a few moments. Something in his head wasn't clicking.
"… Whadd'ya mean, Al?"
"Well," she stuttered uneasily, looking away with a frown. "I… I ccame out about the, um. A-amalgamates. A-a-and, w-well, even though all of th-those monsters were h-happy to have their f-family back, I…" Alphys choked up suddenly, closing her eyes and taking a slow, uneven breath.
"Asgore fired her," Papyrus finished for her softly, patting her on the shoulder with his remaining hand.
"Wait, what ?!" Sans blurted, almost knocking Frisk off his lap, much to their disapproval.
"It's fine," she responded, looking very much as if she didn't believe anything of the sort. "I s-should have seen it c-coming. I d-deserve a l-lot worse…"
"He fired you," Sans repeated over and over again.
"It-it's not all bad…" Alphys forced a weak smile. "As s-soon as mmonsters are allowed more th-than f-five miles a-away from Ebott I h-have several requests from s-some really nice places! H-Harvard, Oxford, P-Princeton, they're f-filling up the m-m-mailbox at this point…"
Sans ran a hand down his face, blowing through his phalanges. It didn't seem fair. It didn't seem right. But he couldn't really argue. The thing with the almagamates had been bad business all around. At least the families would finally get their loved ones back. Sans could relate to wanting the same thing. He stole a glance at Papyrus who was still comforting Alphys, his gaze softened.
"I s-still have q-questions though…" Alphys started after a bit, quietly thanking Papyrus. "A-about, um… well." she reached up and tapped her own head in mimicry of where Sans's thin crack was, and he flinched again.
"Gaster…" Sans began slowly as Frisk turned in his lap to curl up more comfortably, their legs tucked underneath them as they clung to one of his arms. Sans honestly didn't want to bring it up at all, he wanted to forget it as soon as possible and a few liquor bottles would certainly help in that endeavor. "Our 'father.' Our creator. The man lost to time and space. He got inside my head."
"How?" she asked simply.
"I dunno," he shrugged without looking at her, turning his gaze out the window at the early morning glow. "Maybe 'cause I was so close ta the edge already, it made it easier for 'im. Maybe he'd been trying for a while, maybe all it took was for me to slip up a bit, I honestly don't have a clue. However he did it, he got… he got inside my head," his bones were rattling a bit, and no matter how hard Frisk squeezed his arm it didn't help him in the slightest. He could still see that damnable smirk, feel those awful scratching, prodding fingers all over him, slithering between his bones. He had to resist the urge to retch, his chest clenching up tightly.
"I… fuck me. He messed with my head. Violated me. Tried to twist me, smash up stuff in my head, 'cept I just… I kept comin' back. God, I… I dunno how, I wanted it ta just be over, but I k-kept… kept comin' back. Just pissed him off even more. Made him try harder ta break me. Literally, too. Snapped me in half, broke my bones, cracked me apart… half the time I didn't know if it was all inside my head or not, felt like he was pickin' my soul apart bit by bit.
"Somethin' kept me going though," Sans continued without looking at anyone, his voice deathly quiet. "Knew I had ta get back. Had to make sure Paps and the kid were okay. Couldn't let him tear me apart completely. When I close my eye sockets I still see his face, still feel his fucking hands gropin' me up. Like he was lookin' for a weak spot or something. Hell if I know. I don't wanna know, god . It just went on, and on, and on… I guess what kept me goin' was knowing that if I gave up, then… he'd come after everyone I love. He can't hurt anybody the way he is, I think. Stuck, in a place where he can't do any harm. He's gone. He's worse than dead, he's gone. Forever," Sans was talking more to himself at this point, darkness creeping in at the corner of his vision. No matter how hard he tried to shake it off, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he could still feel everything.
Sans only jolted back to reality when he realized that Frisk was standing on his knees, their thin arms wrapped tightly around his neck as they hugged him tightly, shivering and shaking slightly. He cringed inwardly and slung his arms around their shoulders, uselessly patting their hair as softly as he could. He felt a light, springy jolt in his chest, and he bit back a gasp when he felt his soul shiver and shimmer. He felt as though his own soul were straining against his chest to crawl out of the deep, dark place he was in, pleading, crying out to reach for Frisk. Sans immediately pushed down on the feeling as hard as he could though, terror beginning to creep into his bones. Not right here, not right now. That would be a bad time for everyone involved. But the curiosity remained, the longing sensation didn't leave his chest, and that somehow was even more frightening.
"Yeah," Sans murmured eventually. "I think a vacation would do us all wonders. You think we can go fishin' there too?"
"You want to fish in the ocean?" Frisk turned to blink at him, wiping their eyes.
"Well, yeah. Gotta keep it-"
"Sans no!" Papyrus cringed.
"-Reel."
He was met with a chorus of groans, and after the time he'd had it was like music to his soul.
Sans was nervous and panicking the entire morning. He didn't know how he was going to handle all of this. He didn't know how he was going to handle everyone knowing that he was awake again. He spent most of the morning staring at Frisk out of the corner of his eye socket, and he knew why. He knew that it might have just been the paranoia speaking, but he knew it for what it was. Sans was still expecting a reset out of nowhere. Waiting for something to go wrong, something that would set off a chain of events that he couldn't prevent and then they'd wind up underground and it would be the same few days over and over and over again and-
Sans drank heavily from the whiskey bottle, deeply grateful that his liquor cabinet still had something in it. He would have to have a few words with Papyrus later, he really didn't like the idea of his little brother drinking. But Papyrus wasn't an infant, and it would be wrong for him to treat him like one. He shook his head, stealthily replacing the bottle. He still felt shaky, still felt uneasy. He stole a nervous glance over his shoulder, expecting someone to be watching, but Papyrus and Frisk were still packing the things that they would need for the beach. He shook his head, feeling stupid. He shouldn't be ashamed for needing a drink, shouldn't worry about the judgmental stares he would get if he was caught by either of them. He wasn't a babybones. Sans shook his head again forcefully, tempted to go for the bottle again, but instead let his mind level out as he took a few deep breaths. Frisk probably didn't have anything to wear to the beach, maybe he could pick something up for them on the way. Alphys stood in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she stared at him, causing him to stare back.
"… You done?" she asked quietly.
"Don't judge me," he scowled bitterly, wiping his face with his sleeve.
He promptly forced a weak grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Gotta get through the day somehow, amirite?"
"It's not even noon yet," Alphys mumbled, tapping her claws together, awkwardly trying not to look at him. Sans only shrugged and shook his head.
"S-so. Uh," Sans tried to change the subject tactlessly. "How did… how did Undyne take the whole, y'know… amalgamates. Thing."
Alphys took off her glasses and pretended to clean them, not answering for several painfully long minutes. Sans just stood before her patiently, allowing her to take her time.
Eventually she took in a slow, unsteady breath, and her glasses were just a bit fogged when she replaced them.
"Not… not well," Alphys answered at last. "Not at first. But-but I exexplained everything to her, and I-I… I think she understands. I-it's made things… h-harder. But we're still friends. I p-promised to be hhonest from n-now on."
Sans felt as if there was a weight on his chest from her words alone, and he had to forcibly look away. He leaned against the table, gazing off into the distance as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
"… W-when are you g-going to tell everyone?"
Sans opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, feeling like there was something lodged in his throat at first.
"… After tomorrow," he shrugged at last. "I just… I just need time. Just one more day. Just one peaceful, normal day. We can all go to the beach before that, try ta relax a bit. I just… I just need one more day."
Alphys didn't seem necessarily pleased at his response, but she didn't reject it either. She fiddled with her claws for several long moments before taking a tentative step toward him, either ignoring or oblivious to the concerned look on his face.
"… Can-can I give you something?" Alphys asked uneasily. Sans just nodded once in response. Alphys sighed and stretched out her short arms, surprising Sans when she stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him into a hug. Sans just stood, utterly stunned for several long moments. He eventually let out a soft, slightly confused chuckle as he slowly gave her a hug back, and they simply embraced for a while alone together in the kitchen.
"… Thanks Al," Sans croaked after a minute and she had pulled away, and he cleared his throat.
"Don't mention it…" she stuttered awkwardly, clearly trying (and failing) to pull it off like it was nothing, but her eyes were kind and her smile was gentle. "I… I t-think you r-really needed one of those. So!" she perked up promptly. "I'm gonna go get r-ready for this e-eevening. I'm s-sure that everyone is a-already on their way here t-to see you."
"You don't wanna stay too?" Sans cocked a skeletal eyebrow.
"I'm not good with crowds…" Alphys mumbled uncomfortably, rubbing her bare scaly arms. "B-besides! S-somebody h-ha-has to m-make sure that we have enough, um. Towels. For the b-beach. Can't ever have enough t-towels."
It was clear to Sans that she was desperate to get out already, and he didn't hold it against her. Much. Just as she started to turn he called out to her in a low tone, causing her to pause.
"You, uh… you know the last thing you said ta me before… this?" Sans ran a finger bone over the thin sliver above his left eye socket. Alphys looked at him uncertainly in the doorframe, tapping her claws together. "You wanted me to check on Asriel. His, uh. His soul. It's…" maybe it was the liquid courage pushing him on, but it was now or never. God he wanted it to be never. "It's… it's marked."
Alphys just stood there and stared at him. He wanted her to say something. Anything. That god awful silence was absolutely deafening. After what felt like hours, Alphys finally, expressionlessly stalked right past him to the cabinet. She stood on her clawed tip toes and grabbed the bottle that Sans had been so attached to previously before popping the top and taking several long, heavy swigs before coughing, spluttering and handing it back to him.
"… Don't judge me," she shook her head before he could speak.
"Tomorrow, Sans. Everything. Tomorrow."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
And with that he was left standing rather unceremoniously alone in the kitchen when she left, swirling the liquor in the bottle around over and over again. He eventually sighed and dropped it on the table, rubbing his aching skull wearily. He wasn't just up shit creek without a paddle, at this point he was in a shit waterfall in a barrel.
Tomorrow.
Today, he would let it all drift away. He could procrastinate for now.
For now, he could just pretend that everything was going to be okay.
Sans dragged himself upstairs and poked into his brother's room to see him frantically digging through his closet, tossing clothes over his shoulder wildly. It was surprising to see Papyrus's room such a mess, he was always so neat and tidy. Maybe he had been a little more out of it than he thought lately.
"Find anythin' good Paps?" Sans asked quietly, and Papyrus stood quickly.
"What should I wear?" Papyrus held up a bundle of clothes worriedly. "Oh god I just realized I've never been to a beach, human Blake has told me about it but I've never actually seen it, what kind of clothes should I bring? Should I bring a lot?"
"I… guess…?" Sans shifted from foot to foot. "Ain't never been to a beach either. But from the looks of it there's lots of water, so… waterproof jackets?"
"Of course!" he nodded quickly, digging through his collection of clothes to find as many jackets as he could carry. Papyrus paused when he felt his brother's hand on his elbow, turning to face him.
"So. Uh," Sans rubbed the back of his neck. "To-tomorrow. I'm… I'm gonna tell everybody. Try ta fix this. Y'know?" Sans's smile felt plastered to his face. "I'm gonna fix all of this, bro. I've… got a lot to explain to everyone."
Papyrus's face sagged a bit before the expression was wiped away, and he placed his hand on Sans's shoulder carefully.
"You're doing the right thing," he said after a bit, more quietly. "It's not going to be easy, Sans."
"I know, bro. I know."
If all else failed, well…
Gaster didn't want him to reset for whatever reason. Sans really didn't want to either. They had gotten so far this run, his brother had gotten to see stars. He didn't want to take that from everyone. But it was an option. For all he knew he could wind up in Snowdin by the end of the day. So maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel after all. Even after all of his 'sleep' he still felt burned out, still felt exhausted. He left Papyrus alone to go through his clothes for a bit, closing the door behind him, slipping down the hall to Frisk's bedroom. He stood outside the door for what felt like hours, just staring at the wood. Eventually however he started to push his worried thoughts into the back corner of his mind and pushed on Frisk's bedroom door.
It was locked.
Sans blinked, jiggling the door handle again to no avail. He knocked a few times and they still didn't answer. Sans suddenly felt a strong impulse to kick the door down, memories of finding Frisk curled up and close to death on the bathroom floor flooding his mind.
It's fine. Don't panic, everything is fine.
"Kid?" Sans knocked again, trying the handle and still not opening the door. "Kiddo? You okay in there? It's-it's me. C'mon, Frisk, lemme in."
Frisk wasn't answering. He pressed the side of his head to the door, struggling to hear anything and was greeted only by silence. He was stricken with a sudden sense of deja vu and promptly panicked. What if they weren't answering because they were hurt? What if there was a reset coming? He needed to be there for them, he needed them, his soul was aching and slamming in his chest and he acted before even contemplating it, hurling himself into a shortcut into their room.
Darkness swarmed over him and he drifted for a moment, the magical strain pulling at his every fiber as the void twisted and warped around him. He knew that it was a bad idea, trying to use magic so soon after waking up, barely having recovered at all. He felt like he was being smothered the moment he threw himself in and knew that he had made a mistake, but he didn't care. He yanked hard and felt himself jerk out of the void into Frisk's room with a little pop of displaced air. The light was off and he fumbled in the dark for a moment, reaching for the light switch. The little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling vanished the moment he did so, and he whirled around until he found Frisk. They were curled up in the corner with their head in their knees, rocking back and forth as they hiccuped quietly. Sans's chest hurt with the sight and he was before them in an instant, sinking to his knees as he reached out for them. Frisk jerked away at his touch momentarily, their eyes full of tears as they silently bit their bottom lip.
"… Babybones?" Sans asked worriedly. Frisk's eyes were wild and panicked, and they were breathing fast and shallow, their face pale and gaunt. Sans tried to reach out for them again and they flinched. There was a sharp stab in his soul at the sight. Were they really still afraid of him? God he hoped not. He wouldn't blame them. That didn't mean he wanted it.
"C-c'mere," Sans tried to reach out for them again, just holding out his hand. "Please? Please, kiddo. Just… just tell me what's wrong. I ain't gonna hurt ya. It's okay," he tried to sound as soothing as he could, keeping his tone low, soft and slow. He started to extend his hand again and this time Frisk didn't pull away. He carefully slid over the floor and pulled them into a hug, stroking their hair. Frisk eventually buried their face in his shoulder, shivering and sniffling miserably.
"Hey. Shh, c'mon. What's wrong, babybones…?" Sans tangled his phalanges in their hair, petting them as gently as he could.
"Chara's mad," was all Frisk said in a quiet mumble. "They're r-really, really mad…"
"Oh. Ohh," he said, feeling stupid. "They're, uh. Yeah. Last night?"
Frisk just wiped their eyes and stared up at him with an unnerving glare. He didn't like seeing the look on their face.
"What do you think?" they asked in a surprisingly bitter tone. Sans felt like his soul recoiled from the sound. It wasn't like Frisk at all. They were always so soft spoken, so gentle in their words, hearing their voice so full of anger was unsettling for more reasons than one. "What we did last night-"
"Keep-keep yer voice down," Sans hushed them nervously, glancing to the wall. He desperately hoped that the walls were thick enough that Papyrus wouldn't hear that. God, did the kid just not understand what inconspicuous meant? Maybe his brother was making enough noise that he didn't hear that particular part. Papyrus did seem to be singing to himself as he went through his closet, so hopefully that was enough. "Are you trying ta get me dusted?" Frisk just stared at him for a long time.
"I… I don't want…" Frisk murmured, clutching the sides of their head tearfully, breath hitching as they struggled to breathe faster and faster. "That's not… ! No, no, no no no, I'll b-be good, I'll be quiet, I'll be g-good, I'll… !"
Sans started to reach up to hold their cheek before it was slapped away, startling him. He didn't move when he saw crimson surge through their eyes, face contorting in pure rage.
"You," Chara growled furiously, and before he could react they had grabbed him by the lapels and kicked off from the corner, shoving him down and onto his back. He grunted in pain when they landed atop him, and he lifted a leg reflexively only for Chara to slam his head against the carpet. Sans instinctively reached for magic but it died before it could even leave his fingertips, his mind completely flat lining as Chara's lips mashed furiously against his mouth, their muffled moan already too loud for comfort. Sans just lay on his back and strained to get his eye sockets to focus, his mind feeling as if it had just short circuited. He was stricken with another sense of deja vu mingled with panic, and he desperately tried to push Chara up without hurting them.
"K-kid," Sans hissed worriedly. "C'mon, Paps is right next door, what if he hears…?!"
"I know," Chara whispered huskily, one hand slithering down to his pelvis, a wicked grin on his face. "It's exciting, isn't it…? I know you're excited," they wriggled a bit and made him flush deeply, their predatory grin widening to unnatural levels. "God I hate you, I hate everything you fucking do to me."
"Stop," Sans commanded in a hushed tone, snagging their striped shirt front and trying to still them. "You're not pulling this shit. Not here, not now-"
Sans's voice was cut off mid sentence as their hand wrapped around his cervical vertebrae tightly, the lights in his eye sockets flickering when they did so. The constriction was constant as they kissed him again, shifting and okay oh shit alright so we're doing this then.
Sans's vision began to darken a bit and his grip went limp. He wanted to shout, wanted to scream at them and shove them off and give them a piece of his mind but every single touch on his throat, their exploring grip on his ribs making his mind go fuzzy. He just couldn't bring himself to fight no matter how much he wanted to, but he refused to give in, refused to cave. Not now. Not to them. He had to keep it together. Just for a while, then maybe his mind would stop being so muddled and he could focus.
"Are you stupid or something?" Chara released their grip a bit, allowing him a sweet breath of air mingled with their close scent. "You want to just tell everyone? God, I knew you were dumb, but I didn't think that your skull was that thick."
"What'cha talking about kid," Sans muttered, vainly trying to buy time. Chara's brows narrowed tightly in anger and their grip increased on his throat as their other wandered… downward. Sans bit back a choked gasp and why are you letting them do this just fucking beat it into their head you're stronger than them just get it together already-
"You can not let anyone find out about me," Chara growled, burning red eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "If you want to ruin your own life that's fine, but you will not allow anyone to discover that I'm still around. Got it, you useless fucking sack of bones?"
Sans's eye sockets ever so slowly drained of light, and for just a moment, Chara paused. That was all the time that Sans needed. He slid his hand up to their face and they stared down at him, uncertain… and then he nabbed their ear lobe between his thumb and index finger and yanked, causing them to let out a pained yelp. San's soul jumped into his throat as he heard the singing in the other room stop for a moment, his soul pounding and beating so hard that he thought it would burst out of him at any moment… but finally, at long last, the noise in the other room continued, and Sans allowed himself to breathe. Or at least, tried to, as Chara's iron fisted grip on his throat intensified.
"You know," Sans wheezed quietly, forcing a small grin. "You'd be kinda bearable without the constant murder threats. You ever think about that?"
"Eat me."
"Maybe if you ask nicely," he winked.
To his surprise Chara's cheeks blossomed into a cherry color, but the anger remained. He considered that a small victory, even though he very much should not have. God, what was he even doing? Maybe his mind was starting to crumble again. If it wasn't already there. Granted, he was practically at rock bottom already, it wasn't like he could make things worse.
Don't jinx it. Dumbass.
Every time that he felt like he was starting to get a small foothold on reality something seemed to tip him just over the edge again. He felt almost giddy regardless of the position that he was in. He faulted himself for playing along, allowing them to feel some mild sense of control over him. He could force them off, demand that they obey and leave him be. And yet he honestly wanted to see just how far either of them could be pushed.
It occurred to Sans that this was an extremely unhealthy way to be thinking, slowly followed by the rather thoroughly upsetting realization that he just didn't really care .
Chara recovered quickly, but the heat in their cheeks remained visible.
"God I hate you," Chara murmured as they kissed him, and Sans gradually began to stop fighting back against both them and himself, the internal screaming slowly drowned out by the fuzziness in his head. He was definitely too sober to be dealing with this shit. "I hate you so fucking much, I could kill you right now. I could kill you, choke you to death and dance in your dust."
"So what's stoppin' ya?" Sans asked quietly when they started to let up on his throat to allow him another sweet breath. "You wanna kill me. I wanna die. Sounds like a win-win ta me."
Chara just shifted on his midsection, looking down at him uncomfortably.
"Honestly I don't want to deal with the fallout," Chara shrugged simply, looking away. "Killing you would only grant me momentary satisfaction. Then I'd have to deal with everyone else. Or maybe I'd just reset and kill you over and over again."
"Hey. If you dust me…" Sans asked after a moment, struggling against himself more than he was them. "… What are you gonna do then? Off yourself just so you can keep doin' it?"
"You really think that you're the only one that wants to die?" they questioned quizzically. "Face it, Sans. There's no end. It just keeps happening. The only thing stopping me is that Frisk wouldn't like it too much. You know. Promises and all that bullshit."
"Seriously would you stop with the fucking swearing," he rolled the lights in his eye sockets.
Chara's hand slid down to his hip, slowly, ever so slowly, tightening and gripping his pelvis, making him freeze up sweatily. The grin froze to his face from their touch, heat spreading through his chest.
"Hypocrite. Out of everything…" Chara balked at him, amusement plain on their face. "You're bothered by us swearing ?"
"Us, huh," it occurred to him. "So I wonder just how much o' this is Frisk tryin' to choke me too."
"You love it," they rolled their eyes without answering his question. "I think you just enjoy the idea of not being in control for once-"
Chara gasped aloud as their soul was doused in blue magic, and they were flipped through the air until they landed hard on their back. Sans was atop them in an instant, hands slamming onto their shoulders as they were pushed against the floor. Instead of yelling or swearing at him, to his surprise there was a massive grin on their face, their crimson eyes wild.
"It's so easy to push your buttons…" Chara smirked up at him. They were panting and sneering, but their eyes were hungry. He felt a tight pull in his chest like a spark was running through him, the sound of rushing water inside his head distracting him. He couldn't think, this little brat was driving him right up the wall and mocking him for it. His hand wound over their throat as the other pinned them to the floor, unnecessary from the blue magic forcing them down, but he needed to make a point. That was what he told himself anyway. The guilt and self loathing was intense, it pushed to the forefront of his mind and clawed at his chest.
"… Did you make Frisk cry?" Sans asked after a bit. Chara just gaped at him for a moment before their face flooded with anger. "… Oh, seriously. Fuck. You . God you're an asshole sometimes."
"This… this ain't right," Sans slowly let up on them, releasing the blue magic. He felt exhausted just from trying to use a bit of magic, it was straining him more than he expected. Something wasn't correct in his head, he felt fuzzy in his thoughts, but it was getting harder and harder to care. Frisk - Chara's - hands wandered up to his ribs, tracing slowly underneath his shirt and making him shiver. He didn't want to feel as delighted as he did just from the simple contact, and he bit back a small noise as his face burned. He wanted to pull away, wanted to embrace them, wanted to hide away from himself and keep pushing no matter how foul he felt, it was difficult to think clearly. Why was it so hard to think?
Aside from all the booze?
"Come on, Sansy…" Chara's leg curled up to wrap around his, keeping him pinned to them. "All this fighting. You've had a couple drinks too, huh? Let loose."
"… What in the actual fuck am I doing," Sans shook his head slowly, like he was trying to hear something that he had forgotten. It was hard to think, it felt like his thoughts were all splintering off from one another. Was this what going crazy was like? Because he certainly felt like it. "What am I even doing."
"Me, if you'd hurry the hell up about it," Chara hummed quietly before trying to kiss him again, but this time he pulled away as they tried, and the look of pure hurt on their face was intense enough that he felt like he could more than see it, it was like he felt what they did, felt the pain of the rejection. Sans flinched like he had been backhanded, staring down at Chara. At Frisk. His kid. His focus went fuzzy for a moment before he jerked away, cringing hard.
"F-fuck," Sans shifted away and sat up cross legged, his head pounding and swimming dizzily as clarity returned in inkling droplets. "Fuck, fuck me sideways, I-I-I… Christ on a bike, kid," he rubbed his eye sockets with his palms. What was he even doing? This was messed up, even for his standards. Did he even have standards any more? He had to, he needed them, he couldn't let himself slip over the edge, even though the aching, screaming fire in his soul was pleading for him to. He could just stop caring. He could just… let go. Chara sat up at last and curled their arms around their legs, staring at him, sulking.
"So you're just gonna do this again huh," was all they said quietly, not looking at him. "You know, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? I think that's pretty funny."
Chara was mumbling it all and staring straight ahead, the hurt plain on their features. Sans scooted over the floor to their side, and they shoved him but he refused to go. He just draped one arm around their shoulder, pulling them a bit closer. They eventually gave up and shrugged, swearing vehemently under their breath as he hugged them.
"Get off me," Chara grumbled darkly without moving. Sans didn't move either. "I swear to god, comedian. I'm sick of your shit."
"Ditto," Sans shrugged. He still felt far too sweaty, too out of it, and god how he hated himself.
"Do you just enjoy making me miserable?" Chara asked emotionlessly, stealing a dirty glance up at him. "I bet if Frisk had the guts to do it you'd have screwed us by now-"
Sans coughed uncomfortably into his hand, drawing their attention. He didn't want to think about that. Couldn't think about it. Had to keep it together, no matter how badly his bones were rattling. Their hand trailed up his chest to dance over his ribs and he didn't stop them this time, chewing over his words carefully. He needed to actually think things through for once.
"… Why don't you want anybody ta know about you?"
That made Chara pause. Granted, only for a moment, but they did. Eventually Chara did something that he didn't expect. They sighed heavily and withdrew their hand, rubbing their face with their palms tiredly.
"Fucking mood killer. Ugh . What exactly do you think would happen?" they stared up at him blankly. "My father started an actual war because of me. My brother died because of me. My mother grieved for years after losing not one, or two, but over half a dozen children, and almost lost her mind when Asriel came back. How well do you think anyone would handle me being back from the dead, hmm?"
Sans didn't respond to that.
"That's about what I thought," they crossed their arms, looking away. "Me being left out of it is for the best, stupid . So, go tell everyone what a fuck up you are, I don't care one way or another. Just leave me out of it."
"Or what?" Sans mind whirred against his will, going to some rather dark places that he knew for a fact there was no coming back from. "I could tell literally everybody about you."
"Oh, but I'm just p-poor, innocent little Frisky… !" Chara responded in a mocking, lilting tone, covering their smile with a couple fingers. Sans felt deeply disturbed with the accuracy with which they mimicked Frisk's intonations. "Get real . I'll deny the shit out of it and Frisk will too."
"So what about your brother?"
That shut them up.
Chara's eyebrows narrowed sharply, and they deftly picked up his arm and pushed it off of their shoulder huffily.
"… He died because of me," Chara replied after a few moments, glaring straight ahead. "I… I'm not ready ."
Huh . He hadn't been anticipating that kind of response.
"… I get it," he said after a few seconds, swallowing the retort he had for them. "I'll… I won't say anythin'. If you don't want me to. I promise."
Chara didn't look at him when they spoke, and if he hadn't been watching them he wouldn't have believe that it was them that said it.
"Thank you."
"… I-I know I don't… really do the best at showin' it," Sans struggled to speak, unable to keep his eye sockets off of his lap, his head feeling heavy. He just wanted to hold them and make them feel wanted, fighting off impulses was utterly exhausting. "But… I do love you, kiddo. Both of ya. Even if this is all fucked right ta hell, I still love you. I really, honestly do, babybones."
Sans just reached out for them to stroke their hair and they didn't slap him away this time, and he gave them soft, slow pets as he sat beside them. They sat in complete silence for a while. It took several long minutes before Sans realized that the singing in the other room had stopped quite a while ago. He briefly fought down a surge of panic, wondering just how much of that Papyrus had heard. Chara seemed to notice his uneasiness, and they once again surprised him. They slid their hand over to his arm, entwining their hand with his and giving in a cautious, awkward squeeze. Sans couldn't help but gawk at them in mild surprise, clamping his mouth shut after a moment. That had been… unexpectedly sweet. He wanted to speak, he wanted to say something, anything at all, but nothing came to mind. He was more stunned than anything that Chara would even bother with something like that. After nearly a minute he gave them a gentle squeeze back, wrapping his free arm around their shoulder and drawing them into a hug. Chara didn't complain or gripe at him this time, only adding to his confusion. They simply held onto him, face buried in his shirt as they sighed in unison, and for just a little while, Sans felt like he was actually trying for something better.
"… Sans."
"Yeah, kiddo."
Chara shifted in his arms as they sat on the floor against the wall, twisting in his lap until their head was nestled in the crook of his neck. He'd almost grown comfortable in the silence, but he should have known better than to think it would last. Sans blinked when they gripped and slowly released his arm, like they were uncertain of what to do with it.
"I'm not going to apologize," they said after a bit. Sans just snorted. "Wasn't expectin' ya to. So don't expect me to, either."
"Please," he could hear Chara's scowl. "Like I ever expect anything from you."
Sans's soul twinged painfully. After a moment he slowly, carefully slid his arm down their shoulder, and Chara shivered intently for a moment before he eventually wrapped his arm over their midsection and pulled them closer. Instead of shoving him off or berating him, they once again surprised him by almost… cuddling up against him, pulling his arm by the jacket closer to their body and curling up in a little ball in his lap before stilling themselves. He wanted to just stay like this for a while, just hold them and make them feel loved.
But when have you ever made Chara feel loved…?
Sans had to fight off a sudden surge of guilt, opening and closing his mouth. What was he even supposed to say? What was the right thing to say? He couldn't think, couldn't focus properly. His bones were still burning from their… outburst, his soul singing and resonating, he felt needful and he had to physically force himself to still. He couldn't blame that all on Chara, nor on Frisk. He had acted rashly, violently, stupidly.
And you knew better, you fuck.
Sans let out a groan through his teeth, and Chara shifted in his lap for a moment. Surprise after surprise seemed to be coming from them today. He flinched when he felt their hand on his face, but froze after a second. Their soft fingertips dragged down his cheek and over his bony chin, rubbing his bones without looking up at him. Was Chara trying to comfort him? God as if this day couldn't get any more disturbing.
"… What are you doin'," Sans muttered after a moment. He didn't bother making them stop, though.
"Shut up, idiot," Chara responded calmly. "Stop feeling bad."
Sans actually snorted a little at that.
"You wanna tell somebody ta stop feelin' bad right after callin' 'em names?" Sans shifted a little to place his chin atop their head, taking in the scent of their shampoo. It made his spine tingle weirdly. "I swear kid, all this whiplash and back and forth is gonna break my neck."
"As much as I would love to break your neck," Chara didn't stop stroking his cheek, their other hand winding over his jacketed arm and sliding down to slip their hand into his, interlocking fingers. "It would be over too quickly. Takes all the fun out."
"You're kind of a freak, ya know that?" he felt his eye lights dim, memories flashing unwantedly before him. He didn't want to think of that. Not now, especially not now. He just wanted to forget it and move on.
"That's rich. Coming from you?" the smugness was thick in their voice, and Sans twitched uncomfortably. "You're just as much of a freak as I am, we both know it."
Sans didn't seem to have an answer to that.
"So what are you waiting for…?" Chara murmured, sidling down in his lap until their legs were dangling off him. They twisted until they were grinning up at him, eyes gleaming brightly as they drifted fingers down his neck and to his shoulder, over his chest, making him shiver. "Nothing wrong with it. Relax, Sansy. Let your little freak out now and then."
"The less interaction you have with my little freak, the better," Sans stuttered nervously. His soul itched and his bones sprang warmly as Chara repositioned themselves until they were facing him, sitting upright with their legs draped off to his sides. Sans sighed, taking a slow, steady breath for just a moment, before eventually turning his gaze to their eyes. For just a split second they looked worried, but it was gone the next. His chest ached and he brushed the hair from their eyes, abruptly giving Chara a gentle, tiny kiss on the nose.
"… Fucking -" they sputtered in disbelief, rapidly turning to anger as they glowered at him, cheeks like a pair of crimson flashlights. "What was that ."
Not even a question that time, more of an irritated reiteration of their expression.
"I felt like doin' it," he shrugged simply, an easy grin growing on his face. "… So I did." "Explain, idiot."
"Fightin' impulses is hard, and I'm lazy," Sans's grin grew a little wider. "Besides, you looked like you could use that."
"Goddamn bony fucking cocktease," Chara seethed, hands winding up his face until they cupped his cheeks in their hands. "I'm still debating whether or not to strangle you."
"Like you'd get far…" he rolled his eye lights.
"… Wow," Chara leaned back a little, pivoting as their almost menacing smirk spread over their face. "Not even a threat this time? Either you're losing your touch, or you aren't telling me something."
"Dunno what'cha mean," he tried to sit up but was pushed back down by Chara, their grip with their legs tightening on him and their hands slipping upward. His breathing hitched when they grabbed his bottom rib with one hand, his bones itching heatedly while they slid their other hand over his throat.
"… This feels familiar, doesn't it, comedian?" Chara asked after a moment. Sans said nothing, allowing himself to be pushed to the floor. He was drunk, he knew that he was, he could just blame the alcohol. But he knew where the problem really lay. And what upset him more, what was frightening the most, he knew that he should have been bothered more deeply. And he wasn't. The guilt was easily buried amongst the myriad of other amoral anticipations and emotions, but it was still there. Chara's eyes narrowed sharply when he didn't respond, the hand that wasn't wrapped around his throat twirling under his shirt and caressing his ribs, and he let out an involuntary pleased sound. Their face was one of coy attentiveness, constant smile stretching a little.
"Have you finally gotten it through your thick skull?" Chara's lilting voice seemed far away for some reason. The painful itch in the crack over his eye socket felt dimmed, his bones felt hot and heavy, his soul twisted in knots. When had they gotten this close? He didn't care. It was so much easier not to care. It was difficult to fight through that apathy, but he needed to- their hair fell around his head like a cascading silky waterfall, his mind going blissfully numb as his hand trailed over their midsection. His phalanges danced across their lower back and Chara shivered intently, the mad gleam in their eyes almost glowing.
Stop stop stop you need to stop why aren't you stopping-
"Guess you just take my breath away. I, heh. I don't really spend a lotta time gettin' to know ya, do I…" Sans murmured quietly as he reached up with his other hand, ghosting across Chara's cheek. For just a rare moment their expression softened, and they glanced away. "I know you an' Frisk-"
"Don't," they growled, grip on his throat tightening intensely. Sans couldn't shift out easily, couldn't breathe, but he stayed still regardless of the steadily dying voice in his head demanding he move. They slipped both hands to his throat, eager, hungry look dancing over their features as his chest heaved uselessly, and still he did nothing for the longest time, until the edges of his vision began darkening and spinning, and he gently ran his thumb over their cheek softly. Chara let out a noise through their nose and released their grip just a bit, allowing him to suck in air through his teeth and shake noiselessly, spots dancing before his sockets as his whirling head tried to adjust. "Do not bring them up right now, bone bag. I just… I just want…"
"What is it, babybones?" Sans asked quietly, his other hand trailing a little further up their back before he dragged his phalanges downward slowly and they jittered. "Come on. Tell me what it is ya want."
"… Just you and me," Chara responded simply, pressing him hard into the floor. "Right now. Not Frisk, I want this; not you and us. Just you and me. Just. Me."
This is fucked up, you can still salvage this, this is beyond fucked up you're supposed to be helping them oh god this is wrong just stop what is wrong with me this is so fucked up keep yourself to yourself you demented bastard get it together get it the fuck together-
"… You aren't usually this quiet," Chara pulled away after a while, that knowing smile dipping ever so slightly downward as they flicked the hair from their eyes. "Or compliant. What… what happened?"
"I dunno," he responded semitruthfully, cupping their face in his hands and watching as the color rushed to their cheeks. "Guess I needed a… wake up call. Don't worry 'bout it."
"You haven't been threatening to murder me to death," they continued quietly, hands sidling to his shoulders and keeping him pinned when he tried to rise. "As a matter of fact, you've been downright obedient. What in the fuck is going on, Sansy."
"I dunno what you mean," he wasn't able to meet their piercing gaze any longer.
"Bullshit. You've been letting me take control. Perhaps," they held a finger to their lips in a pondering motion. "Because you want to absolve yourself of responsibility?"
"Maybe. Or maybe it's 'cause I care about ya and havin' some semblance of control is beneficial to yer well being no matter how fucked up it is." Chara only stared.
And stared.
And stared.
"… What?" he said after a long stretch of silence. Chara's face contorted into a myriad of emotions seemingly all at once, flickering from shock to confusion to sadness to outright anger before they shoved themself off him, sitting on their knees with their arms wrapped tightly around them, hiding their head.
"… Kid?" Sans asked softly, sitting up to place a hand on their shoulder. They just rolled their arm and shook him off, he could hear the scowl in their voice.
"Have to fucking kill the mood every goddamn time," Chara's voice was muffled, but even then he could hear the distress masked under their tone, the bitterness. Sans sighed through his nostril bone and paused for another moment, thinking.
"… Can I. Uh," he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling too many things that he really didn't want to. "I know ya don't like bein' touched and all. But can I, uh. Give ya a hug?"
Chara responded with a slew of words not to be repeated before angrily throwing their arm out to him without looking. Sans shook his head and scooched over close, carefully putting his arm around them and drawing them into a tight hug. Chara rubbed their eyes furiously, all the while avoiding looking anywhere but the floor, like they were trying to curl in on themselves. Sans just sat with them for what felt like hours, silently stroking their head and hugging them close. He would give anything just to make them feel loved, to share what his soul was bleeding out to tell them. He wondered what all of this had to have been doing to Frisk, and the sudden wash of guilt slammed him like a bucket of cold water.
"… Thanks," Chara croaked at long last before clearing their throat.
"Don't mention it," he kissed the top of their head and grinned upon seeing them squirm in irritation.
"Do me a favor. Don't mention me ."